


Guro Idol! { Redux }

by Pearly_Pornography



Series: Guro Idol [4]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Gore, Guro, Multi, Psychological Horror, heed the warnings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-02
Updated: 2018-06-12
Packaged: 2019-04-16 11:50:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14164221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pearly_Pornography/pseuds/Pearly_Pornography
Summary: A rewrite of a rewrite of a series that my fucked-up ass wrote when I was like, 14.





	1. Waking up is a punishment in itself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It'd been five years since Sen joined the Guro Idol Company.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for slurs, along with the obvious murder and pedophilic overtones

_"Sena? Could you come here for a minute? Mommy and daddy need to talk to you."_

Sen's eyes fluttered open. God, she had that dream again. It was only a little while before breakfast. She was starting to worry about this "accidentally waking up early" stuff. Across the room was an empty bed. Sen sighed. It had only been a week since her best friend Ruri was put to death. Backtracking further, it was exactly five years since she was inducted into the Guro Idol company. Gross.

She spent the first year wondering where her life had gone wrong. Was she a bad kid? Was it because her dad needed the money? Were her grades not up to snuff? The questions crossed her mind every single day. She had been reasonably smart, and talented, and was even working on getting a job, so where did it all go sour? By the second year, she realized it was none of those things. The catalyst that sent her to this government-funded pedo ring was something completely out of her control. A genetic mutation that had been cropping up over time, known only as AIP, or the Adolescent Immortality Phenomenon. In that, somewhere between the age of 12 and 18, one would stop aging physically. Wounds would no longer last, and so long as one organ was intact, the person would continue living by regenerating the cells. Only if every part was destroyed would the person die.

She was punished for being a victim of circumstance. It wasn't fair, but it was life. And May LOVED saying that life wasn't fair.

Guro Idol Co. was more or less just legal snuff shows. Because since people with AIP couldn't  _really_ die, there wasn't  _really_ any repercussions on a physical level. And mental health, especially in Sen's home country of Japan, was taken with a grain of salt by most. So who gave a damn if they were scarred for life? Besides, AIP kids were considered abominations anyway. No matter how old one really was, they wouldn't be able to find a long-term partner if they would reside forever in the body of a 12-year-old.

Across from her, Chantelle was snoring. Another AIP girl, and one of two really hardcore sadists in the idol roster. She was French, or something, and she was hugely muscular, with a pink, curly mohawk and a jagged-toothed smile. A rank 4, somehow. Sen was sure that people had a preference for females  _getting_ murdered, but apparently, there was room for people like Chantelle. There was also Alistair, and he was the only other rank 5 alongside Sen. They'd surprisingly never done a scene together, and Sen was fine with that, because Alistair was a fucking cock. Frankly, Sen hoped he'd drop dead one day, but considering the process required to make it happen, it was a dream and nothing more. 

The waking hour came faster than she'd wanted, and soon enough, May was poking her head in, with her dyed, dusty pink hair tied up in little space buns, and a fake smile plastered on her face. 

"Hiii! Good to see you're already awake. Chantelle!"

Chantelle grumbled, tugging a blanket over her head. "Sen, you're sure you don't want to be moved into your  _own_ bedroom?"

"I'm fine, thanks." She sighed. Sen distinctly remembered Chantelle saying she'd 'fuck Yoshika in her sleep', and knowing the satanic meat-stick hadn't moved an inch overnight gave Sen some peace of mind. 

"Alright, suit yourself.  _Chantelle!_ "

Chantelle sat up, her gap teeth set in a crude snarl.

" _Je te chie dans le cou._ " Her tone was harsh. May clapped her hands together, unfazed, and stepped out to go harass the next group of people. "Stupid fuckin' piece of cunt shit, goddamnit, I should be able to giddup whenever I wanna..." She grunted, crawling out of bed buck-naked as usual. Sen had seen everyone in the company nude at least once, aside from the staff. Chantelle was muscled, toned, big. She also had an x-shaped scar just above her right ass cheek, and Sen didn't dare ask where it came from.

She squirmed into her clothing. A regular turtleneck and some jeans. Staring at herself, Sen was as average as they came. Long, black hair, with no bangs. An average body, average chest, average height. Wide-set eyes, a dainty nose, and a birthmark. She had a bit of a tummy on her, not enough to  _turn people off_ , per se, but enough for it to occasionally hang out over a tight pair of leggings, and enough for her cheeks to stick out when she was really, really pissed off. She wasn't a virgin, few people in the company were, and of course, her loss of the idea was with blood and tearing. She was intelligent enough to know that the hymen wasn't meant to tear during sex, unless something was wrong. But that was how it happened. Of course, like anything else, it fixed itself within the day, and may as well have not happened at all, were Sen to forget the occasion.

Since she was a rank 5, the best of them all, she got whatever she wanted for breakfast. Egg toast, a cappuccino, and rice was usually her preference. She tried to keep it light. Some people, namely Yoshika, could not keep their food down under stress, and Sen didn't want to imagine hacking eggs all over herself onstage, no matter how hard the viewers got because of it. 

Of course she was on time for breakfast. Sen always attempted to be punctual. Discipline was a bumpy road to drive on around here. Mallory was in charge of punishment, and she really didn't fuck around for a second. She was built like a redwood tree, hadn't seen the light of day in years, and enjoyed torture more than anyone else. Sen had actually seen Chantelle on multiple occasions screaming with a jagged leg-bone dragging across the ground, before rolling into her bed, staining the sheets and blankets with blood. If she wasn't so despicable, Sen would almost feel bad. Not wanting to experience such cruelty, she tried her best to follow the rules.

Ruri had been different. Maybe that was why she died. 

Sen shook away the thought. She knew for a fact that it was Alistair's fault. He'd said so himself. Of course, his story changed every time. Sometimes it was an accident, other times it wasn't. Sometimes she deserved it, other times Alistair was "deeply apologetic". He was full of shit, like a clogged sewer pipe. They had to sit across from one another during meals, and Sen refused to make eye contact with him, because she feared that one glance would end in violence.

He was all kinds of perfect, of course. Platinum, bleached hair, beautiful eyes, smooth skin, body sculpted small and skinny by the gods, no wonder everyone liked him so much. His sadistic streak hardly fit his appearance. Maybe that was the draw of his persona. The dynamic. It was all he had, anyway.

"You know, it's customary to say 'good morning'."

She shot him a glare. Really? Was he really trying to do this?

"Good morning."

"Good morning to you too, Sen." 

She returned to her food. Alistair continued. "You won't believe what I heard recently."

"I really- I really  _don't care_." 

"Oh? But I think it's awfully interesting." He had this nasty fucking grin. "Clipper told me all about it."

"You guys shouldn't be friends, you bring out the worst in each other." Which was saying very little. Clipper was a gossip addict, so they were honestly near-equal to Alistair in horribleness. Them bringing out the worst in each other was, really, more just amplifying their generally shitty personalities.

"You're awfully boring, you know? Like,  _really_." 

"Sorry for not wanting to talk shit about a bunch of probably suicidal people because you and your delusional friend group think it's 'fun'."

"Wow, Sen. I'm really hurt." Alistair mockingly drew a napkin to his eyes. "Boo hoo. What ever shall I do without  _your_ approval?"

"Yeah, okay, whatever."

She took a sip of her coffee. "Doing this shit with you is tiring. Can't we go one day without talking to each other?"

"But that's no fun, and you know it."

-

Meeting up for morning practice was, usually, part of Sen's schedule. However, today was Newcomer's Night, which meant it was exclusively for recently-inducted Idols. So in reality, Sen was there to tutor these little bastards. She didn't really  _want_ to, she wasn't a good teacher in the slightest. Not to mention that having to work in conjunction with Chika and Clipper was less than desirable. The crop this time around was pretty nice. Sen hated that she'd begun to use those words to describe human beings.

"Alright, you guys. So I'm assuming you have... some idea of what you've gotten into." 

She was replied to with nods and mumbles. "That's... great." The words were bitter on her tongue. "So, we're here to work on a pain tolerance. The most important part of working in the company is not shying away from things that might hurt." She swallowed. "Oftentimes newbies will go off-script out of fear of being hurt. This is an absolute no-no. So, uh..." Her fingers netted together behind her back. "Just do a self-introduction, and I'll let Clipper do the honors of..." A pause. Clipper's expression was unrecognizable behind their foggy, square glasses. "...the honors of, uh, you know. The- the that."

Clipper nodded, silently, drawing a longsword from behind them. Sen wrinkled her nose. "I don't know if you should use something that intense on the newcomers--"

"Mallory told me to."

Clipper's hands gripped the handle of the sword. Sen sighed, motioning towards the first person on the left.

"We'll go left to right, front to back. So, you first. State your name, your... physical age, sex, anything else you want..."

"Does it have to be my stupid  _appointed nickname_?"

"That's- that's pretty much your name now."

The person scoffed, flipping some of their long, blonde hair.

"My name is Usagi, I'm 33 but I look about 14, I'm a--  _Ghak!"_

All at once, Clipper's longsword impaled Usagi. His mouth spasmed around silent words, blood flowing from his pink, opened lips. He coughed. Clipper's voice lacked any sort of emotional weight, they didn't give a shit, when they said,

"What's the matter?  _Keep going._ "

"...I'm..." He was weeping, not because his brain told him to weep, but because the tears were seemingly forced out with the impact. "...a male...  _I thighk ibh ghunna buke_..." 

"Just keep going."

"Whaddelse do I... Ough..." He fell. Unconscious. Clipper withdrew the sword, then pulling a sharpie from their breast pocket, and writing 'FAILED' on his forehead. Their facial expression never changed. They weren't a full-on sadist, from Sen's experience. They simply had a work ethic. They took this 'forever job' way too seriously. Normally Sen would assume they were just surviving, but if that was the case, this level of cruelty really wouldn't have been necessary.

"Alright, next up." Clipper used the hem of their skirt to wipe off the remains. "You. Skinny girl with the dark hair."

"I'm not doing this."

"Yes, you are."

"No. I'm not." She crossed her arms. "I'm too good to be doing this shit."

"Too good?  _Too good?_ Are you fucking serious?" Clipper scraped a finger along the length of the sword. "Are you really that retarded? You don't get to be  _too good_ for this. If you're too good for it, then just run into a burning building and kill yourself." Sen tried to step forward and intervene, but Chika threw an arm in front of her. A silent, but poignant,  _don't even bother_. "When you join this company, it's because nobody will miss you. You're a fucking waste. So just shut up and do what you're told. We all have to do it. I was you once, and I didn't bitch and moan the whole time. If it's below your standards, then just kill yourself. That's it."

The poor girl was crying now. Though her skin was on the dark side, Sen could see the blood rising to her cheeks. Clipper took the sword, sticking it into her body once, twice, three times, until she fell unconscious alongside Usagi. With the sharpie, they wrote on her forehead, 'FOR DISCIPLINARY'.

"Anyone else wanna screw around, or can we actually get this practice over with." Clipper's face, ever unchanging, was directed at every single one of the rookies. They all froze in silence, few of them attempting to look their superior in the eyes. "Good. Let's continue."

Everything about this was horrible.

Sen wished she'd never woken up.


	2. Atop a mountain of snow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit more of the underbelly of the company. More specifically: Drug abuse.

"I'm really thinking of killing myself."

"You should just do it, then."

Clipper snorted, smacking Yoshika on the back. It made Yoshika wonder how she ended up with these three.

Yoshika considered herself a being of pure, unadulterated hate. Ugly, and shambling like a zombie. She always had been. Born neither male nor female, at least not where it  _really_ mattered. Her mother and father didn't have enough money to fix her defective genitals. She was bullied, depressed, blah, blah, blah. Nobody would ever give a shit about her, so frankly, her life story is as unimportant to this writing piece as anything else.

Girls were her weakness.

Chika, specifically.

Chika was Yoshika's bunk mate. There was nothing kind or gentle about her. Chika was all frilled skirts and harsh scowls, pink-painted lips curled back into a snarl, manicured nails around people's throats. She was a harsh person. But Yoshika knew she was good. She may very well have been the only one who knew. But she knew, oh, she knew. Chika was good and kind. Goodness and kindness, buried within the laced breast-pocket of her blouse, or the inside of her kitten-heel shoes. Because there was that performance they did. Yoshika, Butch and Chika. Yoshika, trapped against a spreader bar, with brands and burning flesh, and an invasion of her sacred temple. 

And Chika carried her to bed, and she asked,  _Yoshika, you okay?,_ and she tucked blankets over her broken body. 

She loved her so goddamn much.

She loved the way Chika walked, the way her body moved. The way she always knew what to do, or what to say. The way that everyone wanted a private session with her, because the highest prize was to have Chika all to yourself. Yoshika wanted Chika all to herself...

Enter Alistair. 

"I can help you get with her." He said. "But you have to do everything I say." And Yoshika was stupid, so she believed him. She ended up lumped in with his two other stupid friends, Chantelle and Clipper, and they all hated her. On their first meeting, Alistair took a heavy baseball bat from the prop room, and caved Yoshika's chest in. The pain was unbearable. Blood was forced from her mouth, she was in tears, she tried to scream but the air wasn't coming. Alistair left her behind in the hall. Chika saved her.

He  _did_ help.

She was bringing her food and stuff. Yoshika felt bad. She was making her do all this work. She was bedridden for a day or two, and Chika took care of her.  _You really need to stop getting into fights. How'd this even happen?_ Yoshika lied, and said it was an accident. It was a favor for a favor, of course. Yoshika's favor being to lie. "I don't like Ruri." Alistair would say, "I don't like seeing Sen happy in the workplace." So it was Yoshika's job to say to Moon,  _Ruri has been sexually harassing me. Please kill her. Please._

It didn't feel very good.

In fact, it was a lie that rested heavily on her heart.

Was she a murderer? Or was it the fault of the flawed industry? In the end, it always came back to her. Maybe she was too prone to blaming herself. Regardless, it was like a pile of bricks on each shoulder, crushing her arms under their weight. She didn't want to do it. A kiss wasn't worth the pain. A kiss wasn't worth this much fucking trauma. 

Even if it'd feel really, really good for someone to love her.

She groaned. Clipper rose a rolled-up 10,000-yen bill, and emptied a bag of coke on a table. "Want a hit, bitch?"

Yoshika whined.

"...Yeah."

"Hah! I hate you so much. Here." Clipper passed her the bill. Yoshika tentatively lowered down. "Hey, you have to split it into a line, dumbfuck."

"S-sorry." 

"Don't apologize to me. Apologize to the coke."

"I..." She looked at the pile. "...sorry."

"Ff- Wow. You really did it."

" _Bonjour._ " Chantelle entered the room, along with Alistair. "Clipper. Yoshika. You sexy little things." She slapped Clipper's ass. She was about to lay a hand on Yoshika, but the smaller girl smacked her hand away. Chantelle growled. "Excuse me?"

"...Sorry."

"Chantelle!" Alistair clapped his hands and shouted. Chantelle grunted, but backed off, like a dog. "Yoshika's saving herself."

"No point in this line of work." Clipper snorted. Yoshika was too busy trying to line up the granules of powder with her Guro Idol Credit Card. "Yoshika can only call herself a virgin based on pedantry. God, you look like you've never done drugs before. Either that or you're tweaking like hell."

Alistair poured himself a glass of sangria, swishing it around before taking a sip. Yoshika wedged the rolled-up bill in her nose and inhaled one line. "Good job, idiot."

"Mmh," It didn't kick in immediately. Nothing did. Even as weak as Yoshika was, she knew she had time. She sat down and waited. A stranger walked in. She looked excited, all sorts of excited. Yoshika blinked, bleary as ever. "Who?"

Alistair turned to the girl.

"...You've been following me all day."

"I'm a big fan, Alistair. An' now we getta work together!" The girl had pale purple hair, and wore Lolita-style clothing. Angelic Pretty's 'Milky Planet' print, in pale purple. "My name's Suicide Queen. You can call me Queeeenie."

"...You haven't been invited into my space. In fact, shouldn't you be practicing?"

"Well, yeah, but I was jus' so excited t' meet you that--"

Bang! It was twice as loud in Yoshika's ear, when Alistair shot a hole in Queenie's chest. Queenie fell back, knees bent and pointed upward. Her hips thrust towards the sky, hand rubbing the crotch of her white bloomers. Her noises were so loud. Yoshika covered her ears. Her three "friends" watched in intrigue.

"A real masochist." Alistair mumbled.

"Really? It's more fun when they hate it." Chantelle tagged on. Clipper was writing in their notepad. "Get this whore outta here, she's killing my vibes."

"Pff." Clipper snorted. "You get her out of here, you're the strong one."

"You'd better fuck me when I'm done with this."

"See you later."

Chantelle grumbled, grabbing Queenie's arms and dragging her across the ground, followed by a long trail of blood. Yoshika registered nothing. She felt numb. She'd pissed herself a little. Just a little. Not enough for anyone to notice. She bit her tongue, drowning herself in the small, fuzzy feeling it left her. Clipper waved a hand in front of her face. "Hello? She's gone, Al. I told her not to do that much." Yoshika wanted to say Clipper was lying, but all that came out was

"Huh bah buh m'huh..."

"Jesus." Clipper tossed a sweater over Yoshika's head. "Get some help, you monster."

A monster. One that nobody could love.


End file.
